10 March 2011

and the gift was in the giving (but the joy still hurt)

my alluvial purpose
now apparent
I feel the fierce
of the water
rushing out
rushing over
I am the riverbed
not the river
I am the tributary
not the confluence
I am delta
(I am)
threaded through a liquid wish
absorbed condensed expelled
I shape a mouth with my sediment
form words with sand and mud
a voice
avulsed into life
the pith of this
(in the parentheses)

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